“Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. CHAPTER XXX. Spurling in alarm. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. Hadn’t the stomach to admit the truth, had he? I’ll lay any money he labelled you with some foul French name as well. ” “Are you in a hurry,” she asked carelessly. ” “I want you to turn me. I am safe while I am there, for I have had bolts fitted everywhere, and a pane of glass in the front door. She held out her arms to him and smiled. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. ‘Typical.
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